


love songs for the genuinely cunning

by TheoMiller



Category: Fantastic Four (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad Jokes, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Multi, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Sarcasm, Team Bad Decisions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 11:20:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6193012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheoMiller/pseuds/TheoMiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny and Victor call a truce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love songs for the genuinely cunning

**Author's Note:**

> Look. LOOK. We don't need to discuss this. This is a Thing that Happens To Exist.
> 
> Also there is unsafe sex b/c Team Bad Decisions lives up to its name. But if you're reading this, you're an ADULT so you know not to have unsafe sex. if you are not an adult: go read something educational, like How To Vivisect A Noodle, what are you doing here.

Reed, for some reason, thought that Victor and Johnny might be able to adjust to sharing his time and company, and maybe even stop fighting so much during work hours, since he'd made it very clear to both of them that he _really hates it when they fight_ even during work.

This is very clearly disproven by the fact that they are currently sniping at each other over what to order for lunch or whether you really need to know Avagadro's number beyond high school or if the carbon-based polymer they're currently field-testing for the inner casing of the pods really needs to be electromagnetically neutral and—

"No more sex!" Reed snaps.

Johnny and Victor both stop and turn to stare at him.

Reed is so, so glad that Ben and Sue are not here. He's boycotting sex, dear god, somehow he became a particularly forward-thinking 1950's housewife in the midst of all this. If 1950's housewives had multiple partners. Yeah, okay, he's abandoning that metaphor.

"I'm serious," he says, because he's already dug this pit. "No sex until you _grow up_ , both of you. You don't have to like each other, or even get along, but you need to work together. That's the deal. That's why we're here, that's what you're going to do, or I'm going to have to seriously reconsider my relationship with _both of you_."

Before either of them can start in again, Reed leaves. Maybe if he gives sad enough puppy eyes to Sue, she'll take him for sushi.

He pulls it off, getting pity-sushi with both Ben and Sue, and Sue plays with his hair and Ben holds his hand and tells him they'll get their shit together if they have any sense at all. But he can't focus on anything, not even fine-tuning his code for the startup sequence.

"Reed," Sue says. "Phone. I'm not opening it," she adds, glancing meaningfully at the notification telling him that he had a new message from Johnny.

_Meet me at Victor's apartment. 8pm?_

There's no explanation, but if Victor's letting Johnny over his threshold without murdering him, it's a good sign.

_Okay._

He's expecting Johnny to be waiting outside of Victor's apartment, but instead he arrives to an empty hallway and the door opens pretty quickly. He tries not to be obvious about trying to figure out how long they've been at Victor's apartment alone without killing each other.

Victor's still wearing shoes and a leather jacket when he answers the door, but that doesn't tell him much because he doesn't take his shoes off until he sleeps, and even then he forgets sometimes, and Reed has to take them off of him. Johnny, though, is down to socks, his jacket thrown over a chair. He wiggles his toes, which are poking through holes in places, and grins at Reed. "Are you developing a foot fetish?" Johnny asks.

Reed huffs in response.

"Don't worry," says Johnny, "we've figured out a solution."

"Common ground, really," Victor adds, stalking towards him.

Johnny hums. "Mutual interests."

"I don't under—uhm,” says Reed, when Johnny presses against his back and wraps his arms around Reed’s waist and rests his chin on Reed’s right shoulder and noses behind his ear while Victor sucks a bruising a kiss onto his neck just above the collar on the other side, and makes short work of his shirt's buttons. “ _Uhm_?”

“So, yeah, we called a truce,” Johnny says. His breath is warm against the nape of Reed’s neck, and Reed barely notices Johnny pull Reed’s shirt off because everything is sensation and Reed’s still trying to come to terms with _Victor and Johnny working together_ , let alone the fact that Johnny and Victor are working together to fuck Reed, which is downright insane.

Victor hums in agreement, though, tugging on the button of Reed's jeans. Johnny lifts the hem of Reed’s undershirt, and after a moment, it occurs to Reed to lift his arms up so Johnny can strip it off and toss it away, presumably to join his button-down.

He lets his right hand catch against the back of Johnny’s neck, pulling the younger man closer, and shakes his other arm free of the undershirt so he can grab Victor by the collar and haul him in until he’s pressed against Reed’s front. Reed can feel Johnny’s arms hovering, feel the way Victor pauses when Johnny just rests them on Victor’s hips, feels the rumble of laughter in Victor’s chest and Johnny’s sharp inhale against Reed’s hair when Victor grabs a handful of Johnny’s ass.

Reed leans into Johnny's lean, warm chest as he rolls his hips against Victor’s. “You’re overdressed,” he tells them both.

“Oh,” says Johnny, breathless, and Reed can tell from where Johnny’s hips are pressed against his back that Johnny’s too hard to think, so he glances through half-open eyes at Victor, who’s leaving a trail of hickeys down Reed’s shoulder.

“Victor,” he says, and Victor scrapes his teeth over the most recent mark before lifting his head. “Clothes?”

“Ah,” says Victor. He steps back, raking a slow and appreciative gaze over Reed’s bare chest before he drags Johnny away and yank his shirt off, and they exchange muttered insults as Johnny shrugs out of it. Victor breaks off on a groan when Johnny drops to his knees without breaking eye contact with Victor, gaze proud and challenging, and pulls Victor’s jeans down his thighs.

Reed’s knees go weak when Johnny mouths at Victor’s cock, and he has to brace himself against the wall and wrap a hand against his cock because his head is swimming like he's about to pass out if he doesn't get some sort of relief now. Victor slips a hand around the base of Johnny's skull and _tugs_ , presses his thumb against Johnny’s bottom lip to open his mouth and murmurs, “finally found a use for your mouth,” before letting go of Johnny completely to remove his own shirt and jacket, and Reed whimpers.

Both Victor and Johnny look at him, but Johnny doesn’t hesitate in wrapping a hand around Victor’s cock and his mouth around the head, and Victor neatly tosses his clothes into the corner of the room. He's clearly trying to look unaffected, and Johnny's got an expression that says he'd be smirking if his mouth was free, because Victor's flushed. It’s easily the hottest thing Reed's ever seen, and his skin feels like it’s on fire.

He almost stumbles when he moves towards them, but recovers and is rather proud of how steady he is when he pulls Johnny to his feet and kisses him. There’s a sticky line of Victor’s precome on Johnny’s lips, and Reed can _taste_ the other man – who’s stepping in behind them and mouthing along the shell of Reed's ear – on Johnny’s lips, and Johnny is hard against Reed’s thigh and he clutches Reed’s face hard enough to dig a bruise into his collarbone. “Reed,” says Johnny.

And really, here’s nothing Reed can say but, “ _Johnny_.”

Victor bites the crook of Reed’s neck, like he's annoyed at being left out, and Reed breathes out his name too, punched out of him in a rough, quiet noise. Something in his expression must hold a challenge, because Reed is suddenly well and truly pinned between them, just this side of painful, as they kiss. Kiss, Reed decides, is a bad word for it. They're breathing their usual string of insults into each other's mouths, and he's pretty sure there's biting happening, and in between, they lavish some of that sharp, urgent attention on Reed.

Johnny works his way over the bruises Victor's left on Reed's shoulder, marking them over himself, and there's a low, guttural growl vibrating in Victor's chest where it's pressed against Reed's back. One of Victor's hands steals its way between Johnny and Reed, jacking them both off none-too-gently. It takes Reed an embarrassingly long time to realize that there's more than just precome sliding over them, which means Victor must've availed himself of the lube.

Somewhere along the line, Reed knows, he made some life altering decision that was either the greatest stroke of luck in his life since befriending Ben Grimm, or possibly the worst idea he's ever had including the machine that nearly created a black hole in his mother's garage. Possibly even both, simultaneously. Either way, sometime in the midst of trying to determine where all this fell on the scale of _bad idea bad bad bad Sue will yell at you if you survive_ to _fuck yeah 1000 points to Ravenclaw for stupid awe inspiring luck_ , Johnny and Victor had  been busy manhandling him into bed. Not that he was complaining.

"Dude," Johnny interrupts his thinking, "we can't have sex with you if you're in an engineering fugue."

"Huh?"

"Genius IQ my ass," mutters Victor.

"He's clearly devoting blood flow to this industrial sized electron microscope he keeps in his pocket at all times."

Reed blinks at him. "Was that supposed to be slang for penis?"

"That is honestly the worst thing I've ever heard," Victor agrees.

"Wow, I take back the compliment," says Johnny. "How about love noodle?"

"Okay, go back to the 'electron microscope'," Reed laughs, leaning in to kiss him. "Although I feel I should still point out I don't have any pockets right now."

"Then where is Victor going to stick his—"

Victor tackles Johnny in a bruising kiss before he can finish calling Victor's cock anything ridiculous. It devolves into more kissing, albeit with eye rolling and huffs of laughter and Johnny's wandering hands. Reed is perfectly content to sit back and watch, palming himself just to take the edge off. Johnny's groping becomes pinching Victor's ass, and Victor retaliates by pinning his hands to the bed.

They're both breathing heavily, Victor braced over a grinning Johnny—Reed knows that Johnny could free himself easily, having taken some of the same martial arts classes as Sue, but he seems more than happy to be pinned under Victor.

"You gonna do anything, or am I gonna have to start calling you Vlad the failure to Impaler?"

Victor smirks back. "When have I ever done what you wanted me to?"

Instead of answering, Johnny craned his neck up to kiss Victor.

Reed is pretty sure this tableau puts things firmly into the territory of "Reed Richards is the luckiest bastard alive".

Victor grinds down into Johnny's hips, and Reed kind of wants to lick the curve of his back.

Johnny hooks a leg over Victor, swallows the answering noise of pleasure from Victor, and then flips them both over. Reed's knee is jarred against Victor's elbow, and Johnny's triumphant crowing is cut off by Victor biting down on Johnny's knuckle, using his death grip on Johnny's wrists to keep him from pulling away or punching him. Johnny pauses, staring down at the other man with hooded eyes, and then slowly uncurls his fist and brushes his fingers against Victor's mouth.

Victor has his face tilted against the bed, towards Reed, so Reed has a front seat view of his pupils expanding even further.

"I think he likes that," says Reed.

Both of them look at him suddenly, sharply, and - "You forgot I was here," says Reed, and he knows it should be at least vaguely accusatory, but he can't be upset about anything when he's this deliriously happy.

"I don't think you object," Victor drawls, a pointed look at where Reed is hard and leaking, grasped in his own hand. Johnny draws light, teasing patterns over Victor's cheekbone.

"If we're going to introduce Reed to the joys of voyeurism, shouldn't we give him something to watch?"

Victor turns his head back to look at Johnny. "Stop talking and fuck me, then," he says, in his same usual, faintly accented imperious tone.

Johnny grinned. "Thought you'd never ask."

Reed can see Victor's grip tighten, briefly, on Johnny's wrists before he releases them. "I wasn't asking."

Johnny finds the lube in record time, and apparently Victor slouches enough that it loops back around to flexibility, because he looks very comfortable with his legs thrown over Johnny's shoulders. They manage to keep up the bickering the entire time:

"Aren't you supposed to be good with your hands?"

"Look, bossy, do you want to get fucked any time soon, or do you want me to get fancy?"

"I'm starting to get the feeling the tales of your exploits have been greatly exaggerated by your other bedfellows, that's all."

"Bedfellows? Fucking Christ, are you reading Dickens up there? Bedfellows."

"Just because you have the vocabulary of a— _fuck_."

"Are you feeling more inclined to corroborate my past bedfellows' assertions of my finesse and dexterity, your Highness?"

Victor's response is a string of insults, and Reed cuts him off by kissing him. Victor bites his lip in retaliation, so Reed threads his fingers in his hair tightly, enough to be at least somewhat painful, and he's apparently calculated correctly, because Victor is suddenly more pliant under Reed's mouth, and for a moment the constant sniping is replaced by the stutter of Reed and Victor's breath curling together, and the slick noises of Johnny's fingers working Victor open.

"Fuck, fuck, okay, I have an idea," Johnny says.

Reed leans back, head swimming. "I'm listening," he says.

"This can only go poorly," says Victor.

"Tell him what to do," says Johnny. 

Reed can see Victor mirroring his dubious expression. "As hopeless as Richards is at most things," drawls Victor, "I sincerely doubt he needs assistance in this. He's probably a semi pro at it by now."

"Really? You don't see the appeal in telling Reed how he's allowed to touch himself? In watching him get worked up just from your voice, your instructions?"

Reed shudders, because, okay, when he put it like that, the appeal was pretty clear. The motion attracts Victor's heated gaze, and Reed wets his lips. "I'm in," he says.

Victor's eyes narrow. His eyes are dark and glittering as he runs a slow, evaluating look over Reed. "Against the headboard," he says, and underneath the imperious tone there's a question. Testing whether Reed will listen to him in a way he doesn't usually in the lab.

Reed moves away, carefully, aware they're both staring. Johnny winks at him, because he thoroughly enjoys Reed getting flustered, and then looks away. Reed has all of a millisecond to be confused before Johnny grabs a pillow and lifts Victor's hips. "Hope I'm not interrupting," he says, sweetly. 

"Knees apart," instructs Victor, and Reed tries to look back at him. "No," Victor says. "Keep your eyes on him."

Johnny is manhandling Victor into the position he wants him, the taller man's legs wrapped around his hips as he slicks up and pushes in. 

"You want to be in his place? Or are you envying mine?"

"Yes - uh, both, either," Reed says.

"You're all worked up and you're not even touching yourself," says Victor. "You're so fucking desperate for it, aren't you, Richards?"

Johnny leans forward, his hands braced on either side of Victor's head, and ducks his head low to murmur something too low for Reed to make out. And then he moves, the noise of it is obscene and unmistakable, and Victor exhales sharply.

Reed glances at him, waiting for instruction.

"The lube," Victor tells him, voice slightly strained.

Johnny laughs, quietly, a smug little sound, followed by the repeated sound of flesh slapping together as Reed fumbles for the bottle, squeezing some out hurriedly. Then he waits, because as desperately as he wants to wrap his hand around his cock and get something approaching friction, lubricant notwithstanding, he's supposed to be letting Victor call the shots.

"Lie back against the headboard," continues Victor, his voice only stuttering slightly when Johnny thrusts in. "Get a finger inside yourself. _Now_ , Richards."

…Being called by his last name is not hot. Definitely, one hundred percent not— _fuck_. He can't stop picturing that time in the supply closet, with Victor growling, "not a sound, Richards" against his mouth and Johnny outside, demanding to know why it's taking them so long to get another butane tank.

"Wrap your hand around your cock," instructs Victor. "Don't move it yet. Not until you've got two fingers inside yourself."

Reed thanks whatever twist of fate got him here that he'd been fooling around in the shower last night - it's easier than it might normally be to work himself open. It's a bad angle, always is when he does it himself, but his wrist keeps brushing sensitive skin, and when he tries to push into that friction on purpose, Victor growls his name in a way that really shouldn't be hot.

"They say that being able to do different things with either, fucking Christ, hand simultaneously is a sign of genius," he says, the swearing garbled in with the words. Reed has been halfway checked out, in terms of vision, only barely registering Johnny's handsome face, beaded with sweat and grinning in a way that makes Reed's chest feel tight. Now, though, he sees Johnny's hand, moving rough over Victor's cock. Johnny glances at him, and then murmurs something to Victor. Whatever it is, Victor seems to ignore it, because all he says is, "Think you can do that, Richards?"

Johnny is at just the right angle that Reed can see the faint ripple of muscles in his back, but also what he's doing to Victor, fucking into him and jacking him off, and how Victor's tensing himself, trying not to give Johnny the satisfaction of making the noises Reed draws out of him sometimes, when Victor's exhausted and Reed is pushing the limits of his gag reflex, of how long he can go without air.

Reed realizes he hasn't answered Victor, and nods jerkily. "What do you want me to do?"

"Fuck yourself on your own fingers," he says, "match Johnny's pace. And thrust into your fist."

It's a challenge. Reed is so not backing down from this. He watches for a second, calculating timing, and then moves.

The angle is less than ideal, his fingers not long enough for anything but shallow thrusts in this position, but - but it's hard to think about the dangers if carpal tunnel when, if he lets himself focus entirely on the positively filthy tableau before him - his mind fills in the blanks, and he can almost convince himself that he's in both their places at once. He's been underneath Johnny before, has been fucked through two orgasms while Johnny croons dirty talk at him, laughing when Reed whines when he pulls almost all the way out teasingly. And he's never fucked Victor, but Johnny is more than happy to let Reed return the favor, and he can remember how it feels, tight and hot and so much better than his right hand. And he doesn't have to picture the sharp intakes of breath or muttered cursing as Victor tries to look unaffected, or the rise and fall of Johnny talking and the way he laughs when he knows he's managed to hit the prostate just right, because he can hear it and see it. Fuck.

Reed is so fucking close - but he suddenly registers that Johnny's slowed down, and it's enough to keep him from tipping over the edge.

There's laughter in Johnny's voice, even if Reed can't hear the words just below whisper quiet, and Reed realizes that was on purpose. Why had he thought it was a good idea to let these two team up on him?

Victor grits out a reply Reed thinks might be "are not".

He tilts his head back, listening to the rise and fall of voices, taking his cues for timing from the sounds and the vibration of movement across the bed rather than watching Johnny's muscles flexing, watches the roll of Johnny's hips instead. It's slow, heady, his mind buzzing with white noise and his body like a livewire, because it's just this side of not enough.

He hears Johnny's name on Victor's lips, and tracks the tightening leg muscles up Victor's thigh and up to his face, how completely ruined he looks, and Reed is fucking intoxicated.

Johnny is talking harsher now, breathing heavily and losing his careful control of his pace.

Reed's surprised to hear Victor start talking when Johnny falters – more darkly, rougher, but so quiet he only hears snippets over the sound of Johnny panting and fucking into him.

Reed's half worried it's insulting, but Johnny's muttered, fuck, and the way he clutches at Victor's shoulders as he comes, thighs shaking, breathing heavily - whatever Victor was saying, Johnny had liked it.

"Shit," Reed says, quietly. Johnny's eyes open, and he pulls out of Victor and flops onto his side next to him. "Shit."

"You can touch," says Victor, airy. He wipes off his stomach with the corner of the duvet.

"Can I - " Reed breaks off, because he's already moving towards them, unable to resist curling a hand around Johnny's hip bone and Victor's leg.

Victor reaches up to grab Reed's hair and hauls him up, closer, to kiss him. It's open-mouthed and lazy, and Reed can't stop his hands from roaming all over him, pressing against the purpling marks left on Victor's pale skin and swallowing the quiet noises Victor makes that may be reproach but sound more like approbation.

"Hog," says Johnny, a minute or two later, breath stirring against Reed's skin as he presses butterfly soft kisses on Reed's bicep. "Sharing is caring."

Victor's eyes narrow, and then Reed is being bowled over. He groans, quietly, when Victor's maneuvering brings his thigh into contact with his unflagging hard-on. And then Victor straddles him and - fuck.

Reed bites his lip as Victor takes him in hand and then slowly settles backwards onto his cock. He feels like if he moves suddenly, if he talks, Victor will startle and move away and never do this with him again, so he's very slow and careful when he props himself up on his elbows, then his hands, until he's sitting up properly, legs crossed, with a lapful of one of his favorite people.

"You had a glorious opportunity to make him do all the work," says Johnny, "squandered."

"Yeah, yeah, let me just enjoy this for a second," Reed retorts – because he's definitely enjoying this, Victor's heavy-lidded eyes and thoroughly ruffled hair and the way he smells like sex, and not only is he hyperaware of the fact that Johnny had been inside Victor moments before, and also that Victor skipped the condom part (okay, Sue _was_ going to yell at him), but he's resting his forehead against Victor's shoulder, arms very much wrapped around him, and Victor has yet to complain.

Reed mouths at the square of Victor's jaw, running his lips over stubble. "Can I kiss you?" he asks on an exhale.

Victor's answer comes in the form of turning his head to catch Reed's mouth. Reed rocks his hips up shallowly, and then does his best to set up some sort of rhythm, which is apparently more complicated at an angle like this, with a fair amount of Victor's weight on him.

He doesn't realize that Johnny has moved until there are warm hands brushing against Reed's. Reed tries to break away from Victor's mouth, but Victor objects vehemently, specifically by biting Reed's lips a little more violently than strictly necessary. "Getting it up again, old man?" asks Johnny.

Reed huffs a laugh when he feels Victor's hand twitch and curl into flipping Johnny the bird without coming away from Reed's skin. And then the weight on Reed's lap shifts. He falls back a bit, propping himself up on the heels of his hands—Johnny's hands are curled around Victor's thighs, holding them close up to his chest—and then his brain catches up. He's going to blame restricted blood flow to the brain, when Johnny inevitably teases him about his slow reaction time. _Johnny's holding Victor up so Reed can fuck him._

"Shit," says Reed.

"Look, I may be an incredibly well-muscled specimen, but this is actually quite—"

Reed surges back up, kissing Johnny over Victor's shoulder as he scrambles to get his hands rearranged, which leads to Victor calling him something in Russian that is likely not particularly flattering, and also biting his neck, but it eventually also results in Victor pinned between him and Johnny, which means Reed can hear the absolute, nonstop _filth_ coming from Johnny as he lifts Victor deceptively easily with one arm. "Unbearably smug," he says, "you still get to ride Reed's cock, without doing any of the work, and look, it's fucking _ruined_ that brain of his."

He tries to protest, but it comes out as a hitched moan that Victor silences with a brutal kiss, so maybe Johnny's right.

"And you know," says Johnny, slyly, "Reed has no idea what I said to get you off."

" _Johnny_ ," Victor growls, but Reed isn't going to let this go, so he muffles Victor's possible further complaints with a heated, open-mouthed kiss, and Johnny continues.

"He was thinking about you, in my place, fucking him—but all slow and sweet, he wants you to make him feel good, but he's too much of an arrogant bastard to ask—"

"Anything," says Reed, breathlessly, "anything you want, Victor, I want all of it with you."

Victor gets his knees under himself again, shrugging off Johnny, and Reed feels like he's just been doused in cold water. Too much, he thinks, he's pushed too far—

But then Victor presses him down, into the rumpled mess of his bed, and sinks back down onto Reed's cock. And for all Johnny's been saying about getting Victor to do all the work, it doesn't actually talk all that much work, because Victor pins Reed's arms above his head and leans low over him, and fucks himself back onto Reed's cock like Reed's just there for the taking, and Johnny laughs, low and deep and quiet, when Reed can't help arching up and coming.

He's floating in a haze not unlike sleep deprivation, or how his engineering hyper-focus might be if he somehow focused on warm, contented pleasure instead of science and math, and he's only distantly aware of Victor taking his own cock in hand until he comes again, spattering Reed's chest with it.

"Happy endings all around," says Johnny.

Victor sprawls out across the expanse of the bedspread that's free of wet spots, and looks rather feline, dozing almost immediately, with just the faintest glitter of his eyes under dark lashes indicating that he hasn't, in fact, passed out on command.

Reed maneuvers himself into an at least mostly dry area, wipes himself off as much as he can be bothered, and flings an arm out across the bed.

Johnny doesn't need a verbal invitation to join him, and they curl together in a long press of skin, Johnny both smug and satisfied, Reed sleepy and sated. Reed's just starting to nod off when another warm, drowsy weight drapes across Reed's back, and throws an arm across Reed and Johnny both.

He smiles, but doesn't say a thing.

**Author's Note:**

> no forreal though I am in constant need of validation hmu @ heroscafe


End file.
